Spectral Imprints
by Matrion515
Summary: A series of drabbles and oneshots on the oft-forgotten ghosts of Danny Phantom. Next up: Routines
1. Flow

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. I am not making money off of this.**

**Spectral Imprints**

**1: Flow**

**--**

He didn't remember his life before his death. Most likely, he probably never had a life in the first place. But he didn't care.

His job was too important. The river of Time, ever moving, branching, breaking. It was tiring, but it certainly was interesting.

Humans. Ghosts. All fell under his sway. It was his responsibility to make sure that they stayed that way.

When the Observers started coming, he noticed one thing about them. Their inability to do one thing, and it irked him.

He had learned to do this long ago, to rely on people and the power of Time.

Time was a constant. Never stopping, always moving.

He wasn't the master of Time. He was merely its watcher.

It was his job to let it flow.

**End.**


	2. Wishes

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. I am not making money off of this.**

**Spectral Imprints**

**2: Wishes**

--

It was her power. It was her curse.

It had been her role in life, and it was her role in death.

To please.

Her heart was broken and shattered, and this had destroyed her.

She was to grant every wish she heard, and that was her purpose.

But that didn't mean she couldn't have some fun with it.

Your wish is my command.

But that doesn't mean I have to listen.

**End.**


	3. Smile

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. I am not making money off of this.**

**Spectral Imprints**

**3: Smile**

**--**

It was that smile. That damned smile that pulled her in.

He was smart, he was funny, he was cute, and he was _nice._

She thought it was love.

He thought it was a game.

Then, it was over.

It wasn't her name he said. Not her name. Not her damn name.

He was just smiling that smile the whole time.

So she ran.

She ran, and there was fire.

He didn't know. He doesn't know.

He just smiles that smile.

And it's not her name he says.

**End.**


	4. Youth

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. I am not making money off of this.**

**Spectral Imprints**

**4: Youth**

**--**

She didn't die young no matter what they said.

She died old. So old. So goddamn old.

She didn't want to be old.

First chance she got, she ran her car into the river.

And she was young again.

This time would be different.

She would stay young this time.

You're only as young as you feel.

And youth is wasted on the young.

**End.**

_A/N: I don't like this one as much as the others. Well, anyways, the first person who can guess who all four chapters are about can choose the fifth one. It should be pretty easy. It can be anyone, as long as it's a ghost. It can even be two ghosts, or a halfa, or about a ghost and a human. You can choose one of the four already done too._

_Later._


	5. Fun

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. I am not making money off of this.**

_A/N: It looks like Foxxi (BluFox15) won the game. She hasn't given her request yet *cough*ahem*cough* so I decided to do one randomly. _

**Spectral Imprints**

**5: Fun**

**--**

He wasn't born the warden.

When he was "born" he was just an ordinary ghost. Then, he met the original Warden.

Warden (for that was what he called himself) was a nice enough ghost, or a nice as a ghost could be.

Warden had also grown bored.

He took him in, made him his apprentice.

And he taught him the rules.

He learned them, inside and out, and he had a purpose.

It was fun.

Then, one day, he became the warden.

He didn't miss Warden.

After all, what fun was a warden who followed the rules?

**End.**

_Review!_


	6. Siblings

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. I am not making money off of this.**

_A/N: It is official. Foxxi has chosen Dora as this drabbles's subject. Remember, this is how I see what happened to Dora, so I took some liberties. _

**Spectral Imprints**

**06: Siblings (Dedicated to BluFox15)**

**--**

For as long as she could remember, her brother was there for her.

He played with her as a child, and as they grew older he protected her. He comforted her after their father humiliated her.

He grew to hate their father, and she grew bitter.

And then, the castle was attacked, and they died.

As a ghost his hate consumed him, and her anger controlled her.

The Knight came and they were separated.

In her anger she transformed, and searched for him.

So she was caught and thrown back into the zone.

When the Ghost King came and was defeated he returned.

But his hate had grown stronger then ever.

He was vengeful and arrogant and his soul was tainted.

But she still loved him.

He destroyed her will and broke her spirit.

But she still loved him.

Even as they fought and he was beaten, she still loved him.

For he was his older brother, and it was her turn to protect him.

**End.**

_A/N: I hope I did her (and Aragon I guess) justice. Tell me what you think._


	7. Perfect

_A/N: This one's a little different from the rest of them. I'm in the Philippines visiting my family right now and I wrote this on the plane, so it might seem a bit rushed. This one's lighter than the rest of them, though._

**Spectral Imprints**

**07: Perfect**

**--**

This place was the perfect lair.

It was huge, dark, and the ghost boy didn't come here as much as everywhere else.

Not to mention all of the **boxes**.

It was wall to wall containers and **boxes**, just lying there, unused.

Unclaimed Baggage, indeed. They should have just called it "The Greatest Place on Earth!"

It was the perfect place for taking over the world from.

And such a place was bound to impress **her**.

Yup, it was perfect.

**End.**


	8. Weak

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or anything affiliated.**

**Spectral Imprints**

**08: Weak**

**--**

He was born a captive, trapped in a tank.

Weak.

He died a captive, resigned to his fate.

Weak.

And he was free.

But he was small, so small.

Still weak.

With a borrowed tool here, and a stolen part there, he fixed that.

And he was strong.

He was strong and they were weak.

It was survival.

It was simple.

It was satisfying.

Their cries as he caught them, as they were crammed into their cages, as he collected them.

He savored them.

Now he was the hunter and they were the prey.

So let the hunt begin.

**End.**


	9. Pain

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom nor am I making money off of this.**

**09: Pain**

**--**

Unlike most other ghosts, he was never human or animal.

He was born of nature.

And of pain.

He wasn't always as he was.

He was happy once, content.

Then the humans came.

It was then that he began to hate.

Because it was then that he began to feel pain.

The humans came in droves.

And they brought destruction with them.

The forests, the jungles, the nature that was him…

Bit by bit, chunk by chunk, they disappeared.

He felt it.

He bled.

The pain. So much pain.

It hurt.

He broke.

Revenge would be his.

And the humans would feel his pain.

**End.**


	10. Minutes

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, nor am I making any money off of this.**

**10: Minutes**

**--**

Two minutes determined his destiny decades before he was born.

Two minute's was the amount of time between his uncle's birth, and his father's.

So his uncle was to be king.

His father was to be a servant.

And so was he.

The trusted advisor to the king.

He was to serve the king, his cousin, until his death.

For when the king died, he was to follow.

And he did.

In death, he was powerful, fueled by jealousy and hate.

But he was to be trapped.

It didn't matter.

He could wait.

He would count the minutes.

And the world would pay tenfold.

**End.**


	11. Ten Memories

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. I am not making money off of this.**

**12: Ten Memories**

_**One**_

Her name was never really Desiree. He gave her that name. She had another name, a long time ago, and she tries to remember it. It doesn't surprise her when she realizes she can't.

_**Two**_

Music was just a hobby back when she was alive. She was good at it, yes, but she never really wanted to make a career out of it. She had wanted to be a teacher. Then he came, and that dream turned to ash.

_**Three**_

Looking back, it was his pride that killed him. He was the smartest, the most clever of them all. It was only in death that he realized that if he hadn't been alone in the lab that night, he wouldn't have died.

_**Four**_

His name was Slimeball McArthur III and he was the class pet. Not that anyone would ever know that.

_**Five**_

His momma used to read him Peter Pan. He decided until she could again, he would never grow up.

_**Six**_

She was a princess, and princesses had to be proper. They must stand straight and they must smile pretty. And princesses should never ever disobey their fathers. She had never liked being a princess.

_**Seven**_

He liked hearing that story, The Prince and the Pauper. What had really happened was that the real Prince ended up dead. Of course, he was King now, and that wouldn't have a very good story.

_**Eight**_

He had learned a long time ago that serving the strongest served him well. They tended to ignore you in favor of their egos.

_**Nine**_

He wasn't the best boyfriend, but he was cute and she was dead. She would settle for him. Besides, he was sweet sometimes. And she could never resist a ride on his motorcycle. That was what got them killed, after all.

_**Ten**_

She was a bipolar, eternally middle-aged ghost. But she loved her, and she made great food. She was the only mom she had, so she might as well love her.

**End.**

_A/N: This was your reward for waiting so long. If you can guess all 10 first, you can request who I do next. You can choose anyone you want, even if they've already been done. Have to be ghosts, or half-ghosts, though._


	12. Truth

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. I am not making money off of this.**

**13: Truth**

**--**

What was true was true.

What were lies were lies.

What was fun was fun.

And that was true.

His fun lay in lies.

In fooling others into thinking what he said was the truth.

And that was true.

In life he was himself.

He hated himself.

He wasn't fun.

And that was true.

So he became somebody else. Everybody else.

He was anyone he wanted to be.

When he was caught they found out who he was.

And the lies came crashing down.

He couldn't be himself again.

And that was true.

So he died, and so many others died with him.

Then, he was a ghost.

And the web was rewoven.

He could be anyone but himself.

And he was happy.

But that was a lie.

**End.**

_A/N: All right. So I've decided to give out two requests. One to the person who got them all right first, which was Ykari. The other is to Asuka-Was-Here for the next most right, first. Good job you two, send in your requests with the reviews to this chapter. On the contest, thanks to everyone who tried. 4 was really the one that tripped everyone up, huh? I thought it would be 10… Anyways, here's the full list._

_Desiree (Kind of obvious)_

_Ember_

_Technus_

_Skulker_

_Youngblood_

_Dora _

_Pariah Dark_

_Fright Knight_

_Kitty on her love for Johnny_

_Box Lunch_

_Later._


	13. Annoying

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. I am not making money off of this.**

**14: Annoying (dedicated to Asuka-Was-Here)**

**--**

Whatever series of events lead to its death really didn't matter.

It had fought to survive, just like any other creature.

And it lost that fight, somehow, and that had created a memory.

It was a simplistic memory that created an admittedly primal ghost that was by no means incredibly interesting, but it had created a ghost.

At first, it was a simple form of ectoplasm.

Then, that ectoplasm formed around the memory of the octopus it once was and that created the Ectopus.

That had never been its name, and it had survived quite a long time without a name feeding on ectoplasmic energy and ghosts even lesser than itself. The ghost boy named it, not that it knew that, or anything about the ghost boy except the he existed and that he hurt.

He hurt a lot.

When it (the Ectopus, from now on, for the sake of simplicity) first met the ghost boy it had been floating along, as it often did, looking for something to eat.

Eating had become the Ectopus's only concern since its death as survival was surprisingly easy as a lesser ghost (it had learned a long time ago that if you kept away from the bigger ghosts they kept away from you.) So hunger was now its chief concern.

The hole had just appeared in the middle of its hunting grounds, seemingly wiping out the home of several schools of ghost fish.

That had been particularly annoying to the Ectopus, so it had gone through the hole in hopes of finding whatever had stolen its lunch and giving it a piece of its mind.

That was where the Ectopus and the ghost boy (who from at that point it had named Dirty Ghost Fish Stealer) first met.

Dirty Ghost Fish Stealer was annoying.

And he hurt.

He was a hurtful form of annoying.

When Dirty Ghost Fish Stealer shoved him into the Dark Place (which admittedly didn't taste very good) the Ectopus made up its simple mind.

From that day whenever it met Dirty Ghost Fish Stealer it would eat him.

Yes, that was the best idea it had ever had.

**End.**

_A/N: All right, so that was my take on the Ectopus. It was actually very interesting. Well, what do you think? Love it? Hate it? Whatever you do, please review. _


	14. Storm

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. I am not making money off of this.**

**15: Storm (Dedicated to Akari)**

**--**

The room was dark, but the storm lit up the sky. Lightning danced among the clouds as thunder made the music. Flashes of the sky glinted off machines only one man knew the purpose of, and sharp-looking tools people hoped they never had to. The air was thick with electricity and madness.

There was science to be done tonight, and by God he would do it.

Not that he believed in God.

This was the storm that would do it. It was the storm ushering in a new frontier of science and technology. And he was the man that would start it all. He would do it. No one else. He had chosen this night to do it. The night of the worst storm in years, it had reminded him of Frankenstein.

The good doctor had crossed a threshold, had destroyed what man thought possible in the midst of a storm. He was no Dr. Frankenstein, he had no castle, no hunchbacked assistant, and certainly no spare-parts man. But he had the storm, he had the machines, and he was crossing the threshold.

After this night, nothing would ever be the same.

He gave off a laugh, short, expected, mad, and pulled a switch.

There was a flash of light as the machines did their work, and another as the sky cried out for the dawn.

There was nothing, and then he had done it. For a second he had done it, he was the master of technology. He had done it. No one else. He was the master of technology. He would be the master of the world. Everyone would respect him. And no one would laugh.

The sky reacted violently and began to clap, not in applause, but in amusement.

Then, all hell broke loose. The lights flickered and the machines groaned and the science was done.

And the storm kept on clapping.

**End.**


	15. As Long

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. I am not making money off of this.**

_**Spectral Imprints**_

_**16: As Long**_

It had been his dream to write.

A novel, a poem, a children's picture book.

It didn't matter what it was.

As long as he could write.

As long as people read it.

As long as he was famous.

So he wrote.

Day after day.

Page after page.

Failure after failure.

But time…he didn't have enough.

So his heart went out for his dream.

He had all the time in the world.

As long as he spent it writing.


	16. Hope

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay, my internet just got reconnected. Hope this makes up for it. Enjoy.**_

**Spectral Imprints**

**17: Hope**

**--**

He was born in a country torn apart by war, in a town where the people were weary, the smiles were fake, and hope had died with their countrymen.

He was born in the midst of blood and fire, amongst the creation of a corrupt politician and a war no one remembered the reason for.

He was the little spark that proved that life could exist in death.

He grew up loved, by his parents, by his town, as hope, as a member of the generation that would forge the future and erase the mistakes of the past.

And then, as quickly as it had been born again, the hope died. It died in the fire and the blood, with gunshots and tearstained blankets.

For if there is no one left alive in a town to hope, how can hope survive?

He wasn't killed. Rather, he was taken.

He never figured out why. Perhaps the soldiers still had a little bit of compassion hidden within their broken hearts. Or perhaps they hoped to seen what pain they could wrought with an untempered sword.

The soldiers were a team, a special team that dealt in death and only death. And that was what they decided for him. He would grow up to be death.

They raised him as a soldier, and his old name was discarded. He was the pup now, to be taught and trained to rip out the throats of the enemy. His people. A wolf in sheep's clothing. He was to be Wulf.

He was an efficient killer. Talented and strong, crafty and vicious. Yet, there was something there. A kindness in him. It secretly grew. A spared life here, a clumsy shot there.

He was tired of the killing. He could stand it no longer.

The made him to be the wolf in sheep's clothing, and so that he would be. He would be the wolf, and they would be the sheep.

His hope had died, long ago. They had ripped it out of him.

And he would do the same.

**End.**


	17. Touch

**Disclaimer: It would be against the rules. **

**Spectral Imprints**

**18: Touch**

**--**

They were created to watch. To see time in all of its entirety and behold in its glory.

They supposed that, in the simplest terms, they were a way to gloat.

They were never to interfere. Only to see, never to touch.

It was as if everything was encased in glass, art they could admire. And they were allowed only to admire.

As time passed, it grew tiring. They grew weary, and jaded, and the world grew ever more flawed.

Then, everything changed.

They were created. Those who were alive and dead, who walked the line between reality and imagination. The halfas.

They were wrong. The halfas were never supposed to exist. Those who walked the line broke the rules of all that was, and all that would be.

It was wrong. It was infuriating.

Time was in flux. Everything was in flux, because of the halfas.

Things that were supposed to happen later came earlier. Things that were supposed to happen didn't. People lived when they should have died, died when they should have lived. There were people who existed who shouldn't. People who should have but weren't.

The glass was cracking, and yet they still weren't allowed to touch.

And it was getting harder and harder to follow the rules.

**End.**

_A/N: So, what'dya think? Loved it? Hated it? Confused by it? Review!_


	18. Approaching Shadows

**Spectral Imprints**

**18: Approaching Shadows**

**1. **He hated mirrors. They showed him himself. Every ugly, disgusting, repulsive part of him. He kept his around to remind him of who he really was, before he lost himself altogether.

**2. **He didn't understand why other ghosts didn't notice her. She was strong. She was beautiful. She was the first one to meet the ghost boy. But, then again, because they didn't, he had more of a chance.

**3.** They had changed the menu. They had forgotten. They always forgot. She would show them. She would never be forgotten.

**4.** Dreams were memories. Things people obsessed about, or things they hoped to forget. They were wants and needs. Humans could never understand their power. But he could.

**5. **He died alone. In the cold and the snow. From that point on, he would never be alone.

**6. **He was an artist. Everything he created was beautiful. Who was the ghost boy to have the impudence to fight him? To use his own art against him? He was the only true artist.

**7. **Sometimes she thought that she fed off of misery because she was so miserable herself. Only sometimes.

**8. **People listened to him. Because he was the warden. And his word was law.

**9. **He could smell it. War was coming. He would do what he did in life. He would protect what was his. He would guard once again.

**10. **He could feel it. The walls were cracking. Crumbling. They were losing power. He would be free. And the world would burn.

**11. **It was almost time. The seal had already been broken. Being pushed back in didn't necessarily mean he'd sleep forever. It was just a matter of time.

**12. **The timeline was in chaos. The balance had been broken. War was coming. They could no longer just watch.

**End.**

_A/N: It's another one of those 'guess who these are about and you win a request' things. The first three who get them all right, or the most right get a request. And what's this? Something of a plot? Maybe for another story. Review!_


	19. Shattered

**Disclaimer: Not that you probably care much about my underwear…huh? Oh, yeah. Don't own Danny Phantom (or Avenue Q.) But nonetheless I gotta say… **

_A/N: No, I am not announcing the winners to the contest just yet, because, so far, no one has gotten it completely right. There have been a couple people Yuul and Asuka-Was-Here, who said they thought of the right answer, but second-guessed themselves. So, to make things easier 9 from Approaching Shadows is registered as null-and-void. For anyone interested 9 was Cujo. I realize that might have been a little too hard, considering I haven't released (or written) Cujo's chapter yet. So, just ignore 9, I'm giving you the answer. People can comment their revised lists on this chapter, and the contest will continue on until the next one._

**Spectral Imprints**

**19: Shattered**

_--_

She was sick and broken, there was no denying that.

But in all her shattered glory, he found every little piece of her more and more beautiful.

Even at her most malicious, only happy when every living soul was miserable, he loved her.

If you could call it love.

Perhaps you would just call it an obsession, but he called it love.

She was shattered and smashed into all of these little pieces, and he would put her back together.

He would be her crutch, her glue, he would be, he could be, anything she wanted him to be.

And he would stay by her side, through the rest of their afterlives, on her endless quest for beauty.

And maybe, just maybe, he could put her back together.

**End.**

_A/N: This one was short. I guess it fits the ghost even more then. Anyways, keep on with your guessing and review!_


	20. Nights

**Spectral Imprints**

**20: Nights **

She was alive and young and tonight was one of those when she could just say "Might as well," and go to that biker bar down Sycamore with her girlfriends.

_(She was dead and feeling old and she was so jaded and so weary that she could just say "What the hell?" and go to the human world with her boyfriend.)_

She was half-drunk and having fun making eyes at the cute guy down the bar, who caught her stare and started doing some stupid bar trick with the salt shaker to impress her.

_(She wished she was drunk, or that she could have that much fun, and wished that the same cute guy would stop working on his motorcycle and try to impress her again, just once.)_

A song comes on, and he gives her a smile and tries to smoothly making his way over to her. She giggles as he almost trips over his feet, and accepts his offer to dance.

_(She hums that song, absentmindedly, and is surprised when he starts humming along. They don't dance, but then again, he's covered in oil, and she's satisfied for now.)_

The song ends and he leads her outside by the hand. The moon full and the stars are shining, and he hoists himself up and offers her his hand.

_(The humming stops, and he gets out from underneath, grabbing a towel and wiping the oil from his hands. The sky is green and there are faint screams in the distance, and he hoists himself up, and offers her his hand.)_

She smiles shyly and brings herself up next to him, holding tightly as they go for their first ride.

_(She sighs a little, almost resignedly, but gives a little smile nonetheless. She brings herself up next to him, holding tightly as they go for yet another ride.)_

The wind blows around them and she can feel his heartbeat. She thinks, as nights went, this was one of the best.

_(The wind blows around them and she pulls herself tighter, resting her head on his shoulder, thinking of an awkward young man in a bar and a dance and the shining moon and thinks that, even in death, that was a night she would never regret.) _

**End.**

_A/N: That was my attempt at (somewhat angsty) fluff, I think it should be quite obvious who the two are about, despite the different writing style I employed. This was very experimental, since romance and fluff usually isn't my thing, but what did you guys think? Did you blah blah blah, whatever I say here? Review!_

_And before I forget here's the complete list from Approaching Shadows:_

_Poindexter_

_Box Ghost_

_Lunch Lady_

_Nocturne_

_Klemper_

_Vortex_

_Spectra_

_Walker_

_*rendered void* but Cujo._

_Dan Phantom/Dark Danny/Whatever you wanna call the evil incarnation of Danny in TUE_

_Pariah Dark_

_The Observants (or Clockwork, I realize now it could be both.)_

_Anyways, the winners are…_

_**Yuul, Soului, and Asuka-Was-Here**_

_and just because I'm nice and ghosts are eluding me by not letting me remember them: my two most reviewers __**CatalystoftheSoul and Jessica01 **__may also make requests. In fact, that's everyone who bothered to play the game. You know what? I'm shutting up now. Oh, and feel free to choose a song for these two. Review!_


	21. Just

**Disclaimer: If it's not impossible, it's very unlikely. Butter biscuits. **

**Spectral Imprints**

**21: Just**

_A/N: This is written for CatalystoftheSoul's request, and the day after Father's Day. Happy (belated) Father's Day everybody. _

_--_

Just another year, and just another of those Father's days passing by.

You try to get through it, try to grin and bear it.

It's just another day, your father is long gone, and you certainly have no children of your own.

There's no reason to acknowledge it.

There's no reason to care.

This day is nothing to you, just nothing.

Those feelings of longing, of sadness, and of jealousy-pardon, those feelings you mistake for longing, sadness, and jealousy-they are nothing, perhaps just a bout of indigestion from some bad cheese.

It's just that the cheese always goes bad around this time of year.

Just go along with your business.

There's no need to wallow in misplaced feelings of self-pity.

They aren't real, just your imagination going wild for a little while.

There's no harm in that right?

So just go along with it.

This day will pass, as it always does.

Don't worry that the glass of wine you started taking all those years ago got bigger, and bigger, turned into two glasses, then three, then more.

There's nothing to worry about.

The day goes by, just like any other, and you can forget it.

Just forget it.

So why does this day always make you feel so hollow?

**End.**

_A/N: Vlad always makes for good angst. Well, you know the usual. Review!_


	22. Prove

**Disclaimer: Unlikely. That's with an 'i.' **

**Spectral Imprints**

**22: Prove**

_A/N: I know I really should get to Jessica01's request, but I have to do more Bullet research, and I just got_

_struck with inspiration. This is a request for Danielle "Dani with an i" Phantom by Yuul._

_--_

When she was born, she had to prove herself.

And by surviving, she did.

But it wasn't enough.

She had to fight, be better than her 'cousin.'

And she failed.

She couldn't prove herself to her 'father.'

So she tried proving herself to her 'cousin.'

Proving that she wasn't evil.

Proving that she wasn't a failure.

And she did.

Then, as soon as she truly began to live, she started dying.

He proved to her that he deserved to be called a hero.

But she knew it wouldn't last.

It couldn't last.

She had what, a few years, a few months, a few days?

She would lose to nature eventually.

She would keep going.

Live every day like her last.

No day but today, right?

And until her time came, she would prove that she could be a hero too.

**End.**

_A/N: I actually managed to shove Dani proving herself angst, Dani eventually destabilizing angst, and _

_Dani thinking she was a failure angst in one oneshot. Cool. Review!_


	23. Nothing

**Disclaimer: Hey look! No. **

**Spectral Imprints**

**23: Nothing**

_A/N: This is finally Jessica01's request for Bullet done. I would have done it earlier, but my life got in the way, you know? On the bright side, I am now 15, as of 5 days ago. Anyways, I'm not so sure about this one, because my Bullet research consisted of two one sentence wiki entries and watching Public Enemies. _

_--_

He was born to a woman who lost her future in the backseat of a truck and a man who left them for his own insecurities and the welcoming abyss of the city. 

He was born into nothing.

He lived poor and hungry, doing anything he could to stay alive, while his mother did anything she could to die.

He lived as nothing, as surely as she felt nothing.

He ran away to find a new life, to find something.

He found nothing.

He died on the streets, always his father's son.

And he felt nothing. 

For a long time, nothing was all there was.

And suddenly, he was something.

Only in death could he be anything.

He found a place in this world, clawing his way up.

And soon he was the second, in a hierarchy of the lost.

But he would wait, and grow stronger.

He had waited his whole life for this.

So in death he would be more than something.

He would cast off the corrupt, and he would be everything. 

**End.**

_A/N: So, what'd you think? Wow, I'm kinda nervous. Oh, well. Review!_


	24. Reasons

**Spectral Imprints**

**24: Reasons**

If anyone had asked her about it, she wouldn't answer.

Not truthfully at least.

That was probably because she really didn't know herself.

It wasn't out of guilt, or debt, or some misguided and misplaced trust in the man.

It was the sick, twisted loyalty of a sick, twisted ghost for a sick, twisted man.

She had no idea why, and if you looked at it logically, emotionally, psychologically it wouldn't make sense.

But it was the truth.

She was loyal to him and she would always be loyal to him.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It was a sick truth, but it was a truth.

And, while sick truths went, it couldn't be too far along to venture that she enjoyed it.

She enjoyed being under his control, doing whatever he desired.

Somewhere inside some small (or large) part of her took a sick pleasure in being controlled.

Maybe that was the reason.

Surely it was at least part of it.

Whatever the reason, she stayed by his side.

She fought for him.

And, if the need arose, she would die once again.

**End.**

_A/N: This one gave me a little chill. I mean, I've dealt with darker, but this one, for whatever reason, I got a chill down my spine when I wrote this. Same for you? Review._


	25. Incarcerated Interactions

**Spectral Imprints**

**25: Incarcerated Interactions**

_A/N: This is really just lighthearted. There are just conversations between cellmates in Walker's jail. _

--

"Skulker!"

"Child."

"Good morning!"

"We are in a windowless cell, and there is no sun in the ghost zone."

"…"

"What is it child?"

"…"

"Are you crying?"

"…no…"

"…fine. Good morning."

"Yay! Will you be my friend?"

"I would rather not."

"I'm hungry."

"You are a ghost. You do not get hungry."

"I'm still hungry though."

"And what exactly do you expect me to do about it?"

"Will you get me a sandwich?"

"Do you think I can make a sandwich appear out of thin air?"

"Lunch Lady can."

"That is not the point."

"Will you be my friend now?"

--

"I'm bored. Entertain me."

"There's really nothing I can do about that, I'm sorry."

"Isn't making people happy supposed to be your job?"

"I could ask you the same question. Sing a song or something if you're so bored."

"I need a beat."

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters! Weren't you a dancer back in the Stone Age?"

"Hardly. And I am certainly not that old."

"Doesn't look like it."

"I heard that."

"Were you not supposed to?"

"Cheeky little brat."

"Creepy old witch."

"What was that? I can't quite remember."

"I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that. I wish you would speak up."

"WILL BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP! I NEED MY REST TO STAY YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL!!!"

"Like that'll do any good."

"It's not like she can get any worse."

**End.**

_A/N: I like this one. I might do another one if I get a good enough response. Review!_


	26. Compare and Contrast

**Spectral Imprints**

**26: Compare and Contrast**

--

In the end, dying was easy.

_In the end, dying was hard._

There was no pain, no fuss, a quiet death, befitting of the life it took.

_There was plenty of pain, plenty of fuss and crying and begging, a long, drawn out death that no one deserved to face._

She was blessed to live in boring times.

_But this was war and such things were commonplace._

Her life had been boring, she had been boring, and she had been forgotten in the end.

_His life had been easy, then torn apart completely, and he was just another name in the end._

She didn't want to be forgotten.

_He didn't want to lose it all._

And she was a ghost.

_And he was a ghost._

In the end, dying was easy.

_In the end, dying was hard._

**In the end, living was harder. **

**End.**

_A/N: So sorry about my lack of updates, and I don't know about this one. Seriously, I really don't know who this is about. Well, I think I know one of them, but the other is lost to me. Well, what do you think? Review!_


	27. Routines

Spectral Imprints

27: Routines

After years of death, one can't help but develop a pattern.

The food sizzles on the stove. Every time the same.

It's comforting, a little, to know you can still do this, to think of it as instinct.

You'd smile, but you're just a little too focused on the food.

You can't let it burn, can you?

--

After years of doing the same thing in life as in death, you can't help but develop a cadence.

You actually have more than one.

The clicking of the keyboard as you write and write.

And then, of course, there's the ever-present rhyme.

Don't break the rhyme, don't waste your time.

Keep it going until you can find inspiration.

--

Even in death, especially in death, rhythm is everything.

Rhythm is music.

Rhythm is your life in death.

Up the tempo, flash the lights.

They're all slaves to the rhythm just like you.

Keep it going, so they'll never forget it.

--

The food sizzles.

The words rhyme.

The notes play.

The clock ticks.

You may no longer have life, but that doesn't mean you can't fall back into routine.

End.


	28. Flicker

**Spectral Imprints**

**28: Flicker**

**--**

The flame flickered and he stared.

He had forgotten.

It had been so long.

But it didn't feel like it.

Weren't these days supposed to be happy?

Every kid was supposed to look forward to these days.

And he was still a kid.

He would never be anything but a kid.

No matter how old he was.

He had forgotten.

He couldn't be a kid if he was that old, right?

He had forgotten, but his friend remembered.

His friend was always there for him. His friend always remembered.

Even if he didn't.

He made his decision.

The flame flickered, and he was gone.

**End.**


End file.
